


Not Exactly

by birdbulletarrow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Elementary (TV), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, F/M, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdbulletarrow/pseuds/birdbulletarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little riff on Joan Watson and Jamie Moriarty's restaurant face-off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Exactly

Joan orders first, and, to buy herself some time, turns her pleasant tone to Lannister and Tarth. “And what would you like to drink?”

As the waiter rattles off the highlights of the wine list, she feels a tiny bit of satisfaction at Lannister’s fleeting, sour look.

He seems comfortable enough with the prosthetic hand, but Tarth had taken the seat to his right anyway. Without a word, and same as last time, Joan realizes. The thing is, her two kidnappers—because that’s what this is, a damned kidnapping—haven’t spoken to, have barely even looked at each other in the twenty minutes since they brazenly intercepted Joan outside the police station: he with that flirtatious smile and unwavering eye contact, doing all the talking after he plucked her phone out of her hand; she, covered neck to toe despite the weather, the very picture of disinterest as she gazed at a point somewhere just above both their heads. Then he'd opened the limousine door, his arm sweeping wide, and Joan found herself boxed in as Tarth, a broad wall of wool turtleneck, stepped in close at the very same moment. Joan had never felt so short in her life. From the street and limo to their table inside the restaurant, Moriarty's henchmen had performed a subtle dance, made a human cage for Joan. Each was attuned to the other’s movements, thoughts. Like her and Sherlock, in a way. _He thinks I’m at the hospital right now._

Tarth is tense. She keeps brushing a long thumb over the thick material at her throat, as if it irritates her, before letting her hand drop back to her lap. When Joan and Sherlock interviewed them two weeks ago, she’d been wearing a turtleneck sweater too. Joan thinks of the children’s story about the woman who never took off the black ribbon around her neck. She would look like Brienne Tarth; haunted, old before her time.

The waiter finally leaves. Joan speaks across the table to Lannister, but monitors Tarth’s reactions from the corner of her eye.

"I trust you haven’t actually hospitalized my mother."

He is dismissive. “No need for that yet.” It's a non-answer, but the tall woman shifts awkwardly in her seat. _They're bluffing. For now. I'd better talk to Marcus about a protection detail after this bullshit._

"What exactly are you to Mr. Holmes?" he asks. "As far as I can tell, you’re a kind of—" his left hand drifts up in the air as he feigns a search for the precise term "—mascot."

Tarth’s mouth twitches at that word, the only disturbance to her stony expression. _Exasperation or amusement?_

Lannister, on the other hand, openly smirks at her, the smug bastard. "You’re not afraid at all, are you, Miss Watson?”

"Too angry to be afraid," Joan says levelly.

"Then you’re more useless than I thought. You should be afraid. Of Moriarty, at the very least." He shrugs. "She fooled the great Sherlock Holmes so thoroughly, after all."

"Sorry to disappoint. Why am I here if I’m so useless? You realize it doesn’t matter what you do to me, right? There’s already enough evidence for the district attorney to put both you and your boss on trial for several counts of murder. And you—" Joan glances at Tarth with disdain, "—can easily be charged as an accessory." _Hope they can’t see through my bluff._

The silverware and plates clink in protest as Tarth slams a thick fist onto the tabletop. The restaurant is busy enough that no one around them notices, but Joan can’t help but jump. In a swift motion, Lannister covers his partner's whitened knuckles with his false hand. He isn’t smirking anymore. For the first time since the investigation began, Tarth looks her straight in the eye. Joan realizes she hadn’t been fooled for a moment.

"It wasn’t murder. Not on his part. You’ll get the full story, and enough to get Moriarty. I promise you that." Joan is startled by the steel in her low voice. A pause—it's not hesitation—and the young woman drops her gaze down to her taut fist beneath Lannister’s prosthesis. "On one condition," she adds. "He gets full immunity."

He _gets full immunity? Doesn’t she care what happens to her?_

As if on cue, Lannister and Tarth’s eyes flick to one another in an intense, unmistakeable look.

 _Well_ , Joan thinks. _Not_ exactly _like me and Sherlock then._

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The mascot line and 'too angry to be afraid' are lifted directly from Elementary S01E24. 
> 
> 2\. I really do need a proper ASoIaF/Elementary crossover epic though. *stares intensely at all AO3 passersby*


End file.
